Two Years and Two Weeks
by magfreak
Summary: After the end of her two year relationship, Sybil Crawley is convinced that love doesn't exist. But events surrounding her sister Mary's sudden engagement and whirlwind wedding force her to question everything she thinks she knows. Inspired by the movie 500 Days of Summer.
1. Chapter 1

_New Story! I will dive deep into this one when I wrap-up A Kiss For the Irishman (soon), but I thought I'd post the prologue now to see if people are interested. This is inspired the movie 500 Days of Summer—if you haven't seen it SPOILER ALERT—telling the story from the point of view of the girl (Sybil). It doesn't mimic the action in the movie, and you don't have to have seen the movie to understand what's happening, but the basic premises are that (1) not every relationship is meant to last forever and (2) love doesn't make sense until it does. _

_Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think._

* * *

Love is full of all kinds of clichés.

The one Sybil Crawley found most irritating one was the idea that it hurts to have your heart broken but not to break someone else's.

_This_, Sybil thought, _is simply not true_.

After Sybil broke her best friend's heart, for a time after the fact, she believed she would never be a whole person again. She'd broken up with people before, but not like this. She was miserable that she'd made him so sad and angry that he'd given her the power to do so. She was free again, but felt trapped by the freedom the break up had afforded because if she enjoyed herself too much, their mutual friends would think she was insensitive. If she wallowed like she knew _he_ would they'd think Sybil was mad for having cut him off in the first place.

He got the sympathy. Sybil got the cold shoulders—or worse, the questions and recriminations: _Why? But you were so perfect together! He's such a nice bloke! What's wrong with you?_

Because she wasn't happy. No, they were not, in fact, perfect together. Yes, he's incredibly nice, the nicest person she knew, but someone can be nice and still not be the person for you.

But that last question.

_What's wrong with you?_

That's the one that always tripped her up. Why did something have to be wrong with Sybil? So she didn't subscribe to the idea that being with someone was her sole purpose in life. She didn't want a Disney prince to sweep her off her feet. She considered love an invention by people who sold flowers and chocolates. She hated that her gender was raised to be a slave to it. She didn't need it, and in the end, she didn't need _him_. He needed her too much. It was stifling. Love was stifling.

Breaking up takes a piece of your soul but nobody thinks about the feelings of the dumper. Only the dumpee.

It had been a month, but Sybil remembered the day like it had happened yesterday.

They'd eaten sandwiches in the park.

They'd spent the whole day together, in fact.

They'd gone to the shops.

They'd gone to her favorite café and had a cuppa. She read a book, while he read the newspaper.

They'd gone to the cinema.

They'd gone to his favorite music shop, and she'd rolled her eyes as he swooned over a Ringo Starr album. (_Ringo? Really?_ She'd thought. He was mostly joking, of course, but her irritation with him, now building for weeks, clouded her impression of what she was seeing. And, from within his own personal bubble of one-sided love, he missed the fact that they clearly were not on the same page.)

Then, they'd gone for a bite. It was early, but a new place had opened near his flat that served breakfast all day. He was keen to try it. Sybil had no reason not to go along. She was hungry.

"God, I love eating pancakes at night," he said after they'd ordered. "It's like the greatest thing ever. How great is this?"

Sybil had been unhappy that whole day. Nothing in her demeanor was trying to hide the fact, but he didn't see it. He _wouldn't_ see it. He was having a grand time out with his girlfriend, who was exhausted from a shitty week at work. And he couldn't see it. He couldn't see _her_. And his seemingly innocuous question finally broke Sybil.

How great is _this_?

_Pretty fucking NOT great is what it is._

"I think we should stop seeing each other," she said.

There it was.

What she'd been wanting to say for so long, but couldn't bring herself to do so because it would bring, she knew, the expression on his face that he was wearing right now. Ironically, Sybil thought, looking into his eyes just then, that this was the first time he was seeing her. The _real _Sybil, and not the perfect woman he'd created in his own mind to fall in love with. But it was too late.

"This thing," she said, taking a deep breath. "This whatever it is. You and me. Do you think this is normal?"

"I don't know," he said calmly, though she could see him trying to fight off the agitation. "Who cares about normal?! I'm happy. Aren't you happy?"

"You're happy?" Sybil asked, a measure of frustration seeping out.

"You're not?"

"All we do is argue!" She exclaimed.

"That is such a lie!"

Sybil's shoulders dropped as she let out a sigh. The willful ignorance was back. "This can't be a total surprise. I mean, we've been like Sid and Nancy for months!"

"Sybil, Sid stabbed Nancy seven times with a kitchen knife. We've had some disagreements but I hardly think I'm Sid Vicious."

"No, _I'm _Sid."

"So I'm _Nancy_?!" He asked skeptically.

Sybil spied the server coming with their food, happy for the break. It was foolish and, she had to admit, plainly insensitive to have done it like this—in a public place, at the _start _of a meal, rather than the end. This wasn't how she'd meant for it to go, and now that she was in the thick of it, she was grateful for the reprieve. Cowardly, maybe, but her point was not to hurt him, only to have him wake up.

"Let's just eat and we'll talk about it after," she said. "I'm starving."

He sat still and stared as she tucked in. She was afraid to look up because she knew what she'd see in his eyes. Heartbreak. She couldn't deny it. She had, she knew, for all intents and purposes, broken his heart. No, she wasn't in love with him, never had been, really, but she still cared for him as a friend. He was perhaps the closest she'd ever had. And seeing him hurt also hurt her.

So she tried to take a page from his book—avoidance.

"Mmm, you're so right. These are great!"

He couldn't stomach a bite of it.

**"**What?" Sybil asked, trying to goad him into reacting in some way.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he stood up to go.

"Tom, don't," she called out. "Come back. You're still my best friend!"

Those were the last words that she'd spoken to Tom Bellasis.

That was how the two years ended. The two weeks were about to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again! I didn't intend to let so much time lapse between the prologue and the first chapter of this story, but life happens. It also took a while for the muse to spark again with this one. Anyway, it did—finally—and I have most of it planned out now, so I hope to update fairly regularly._

_As I said in the note on the prologue, this story is inspired by the movie 500 Days of Summer, in that it's premised on the end of a relationship in which the girl (in this case Sybil) was never in love with the boy (in this case Tom Bellasis), but it's told from the girl's point of view (the movie is the boy's point of view). The break up scene in the prologue and a couple of scenes from the end of the movie will be worked into this story, but that's pretty much where the similarities end. The character's back stories will all be of my own invention. So if you haven't seen the movie (which I do recommend) you won't be missing anything._

_When this chapter starts, it's a month after the prologue and about two months after the break-up. This is still a bit of a set-up chapter. The action really begins in earnest in the next one. _

_But enough from me, here ya go!_

* * *

**One month later**

"So will you come to the wedding?"

Sybil smiled at her friend's eagerness. "Of course, I'll come, Imogen . . . if you really want me there."

"I do! And aren't those words you just long to hear me say in front of dozens of people?" Imogen said, playfully batting her eyelash.

Sybil laughed at her giddiness. In truth, it never took much to get Imogen excited, so Sybil could only imagine how over the moon she'd be on the day of her wedding to her sweetheart, Ben.

The two friends had met up at a small teahouse in York, where Sybil had lived and worked for her first three years out of uni—and where Sybil and Tom Bellasis had lived out their doomed relationship. Sybil had taken the train up for the day and stopped to meet Imogen on the way home to Downton Abbey, where she was going to see her parents for the first time since she'd moved to London a few weeks before. The move had been an impulsive decision, but she wanted a clean break and a fresh start. She'd always longed to live there, and nothing—certainly not a dead-end relationship—was stopping her now.

"Ben will be happy too," Imogen said.

"You don't have to guild the lily," Sybil said teasingly.

Imogen's smile faded a bit. "I know how he was after you and Tom ended things, and it wasn't fair."

"He was just being a loyal friend," Sybil said with a sigh.

"You're our friend too! There was no need to shut you out or to blame it all on you."

Sybil looked down but didn't say anything.

"Listen, Sybil. I know . . . well, I know we only really got to know you after you two were going out, but I'd always wanted to be your friend. Truly."

Sybil looked up again and saw the sincerity in Imogen's eyes. It was odd for Sybil to think of Imogen and Ben and not think of how much time she and Tom Bellasis had spent with them and how close they'd all become in such a short amount of time.

Ben and Tom had been mates at university, and Sybil and Imogen had been working at the same hospital as nurses for a year, both hired right after their graduation from nursing school. One night, Sybil invited Tom to an outing with friends from the hospital, and he showed up with Ben. It proved a fateful night, for the mix of drinks and karaoke tipped a reluctant Sybil toward the "more" side of "more than friends" with Tom. And it was the night Imogen and Ben met.

They were two young couples having a laugh, one with a veritable spark, the other only pretending to have one.

"I should have stuck up for you more, and I'm sorry," Imogen said quietly. "I just didn't know how to react. It was, um . . . rather sudden."

Sybil shrugged. "It was and it wasn't.

"What do you mean?"

"I never really loved him. I mean, I did, it's just . . . "

Imogen smiled sadly. "You were never _in love_ with him?"

Sybil shook her head. "It's weird. I knew I wasn't going in, but he's been my friend since we were kids. I just let him convince me that I eventually would be."

"Well, it's over now and regardless of what happened, you're coming to get good and pissed with me and Ben on our wedding day. I know we sent you one invitation to both of you, but just because you won't come together doesn't mean _you_ can't come at all."

"Good," Sybil said with a nod.

The two girls laughed. It made Sybil happy to have taken the time to clear the air with her.

"So how are things going?" Sybil asked. "I can imagine the details are driving you mad now that it's only three weeks away."

"I _am_ excited, and I know that I'll enjoy myself on the actual day, but the planning of it saps you of the will to live."

Sybil laughed. "Well, at least there's not much more to go."

"Thank, heaven. And really, Syb, I've been so consumed with it that I'm more than happy to talk about something else. Like you! How's London? I'm dying to know how you're getting on! Have you started looking for a job?"

"Only just. I'm finally settling into my own flat. I came up to get a few things from home to bring back with me, in fact. But so far it's been really good. I mean—I know I haven't been there long, but it's exciting to be somewhere new. I don't have to deal the possibility of mum popping by unannounced, which is nice, and I'll see my sisters more."

"How's Mary? I saw the announcement in the paper yesterday that she's engaged."

Sybil nodded as she sipped her tea. "You'll love this. They've decided to forego the traditional wedding and invite everyone on holiday with them to Hawaii, leaving Friday as a matter of fact."

"Oh you mean like a destination wedding?"

"Is that what it's called?"

"That's when you ask everyone who wants to come to travel with you somewhere so it's like you have your wedding and your honeymoon all at once."

"Yeah, I guess it's something like that. It was rather a last-minute decision, so it's only going to be immediately family—Matthew's mum, Edith and our parents."

"Oh, that'll be lovely! Though, I've to say I'm shocked she's not marrying at Downton."

"I am too. They might have a reception there later, but they're really keen on doing it right away. And Matthew's firm represents the parent company of the resort where they're all staying, so it's free other than air fare."

"As if that's an issue for the daughter of the Earl of Grantham," Imogen said with a roll of her eyes.

Sybil laughed, knowing her friend to be teasing. Unlike most of the "post set" she'd grown up with, Sybil lived a simple life, worked a job and surrounded herself with people who loved her for who she was. Tom Bellasis was the son of her Uncle Marmaduke's banking partner, and as such his family was on the lower fringe of the upper class, but they were not of aristocratic stock like the Crawleys and their wealth didn't quite compare to the Grantham estate. Tom was a quiet, humble kid, which was why Sybil and he became friends, a friendship that still Sybil hoped could be repaired someday.

"So when do you leave?" Imogen asked.

Sybil bit her lip. "I'm not sure I'm going."

"WHAT!" Imogen stopped short. "Sybil! You're turning down a holiday in paradise, not to mention missing your sister's wedding!? Why?"

Sybil shrugged.

"Well, can I come in your place?"

Sybil laughed.

"I'm dead serious!"

Sybil sighed, still smiling at her friend. "I likely _will_ go—at least, I know mama will insist I do when I get home tonight."

"Why don't you want to?"

"It just feels weird. Me at a wedding when I just broke up with someone because I find the prospect of love rather nonsensical."

"You didn't_ just_ break up. It's been two months, and as to the 'love nonsense' as you call it. Do you really think your sister is making a mistake getting married?"

Sybil smiled ruefully. "She's the exception that proves the rule."

"And me?"

"You, too." Sybil looked down at her hands. "I just don't think it's for me, OK?"

"OK. But Sybil, it's _Hawaii! _Go and have fun."

"I know. And I know that once I'm lying on the sand with a cocktail in my hand I'll be happy to be there. But right now the prospect of a weekend devoted to romance when I'll be the only person alone sounds a bit dreadful."

"Well, you could take care of that, you know."

Sybil couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Oh, I'm not saying get back together with Tom. I mean take someone else. Isn't there someone you're interested in you could invite?"

"I'd wager it's going to be a long, long time before I have interest in anyone," Sybil said, taking a sip of her tea.

Imogen smiled. "I doubt that very much, but maybe going alone will just leave you available for some whirlwind island fling. A sun-kissed American _surfer_ _dude_."

Sybil laughed at her friend's meager attempt at an American accent. With a sigh, Sybil said, "I won't hold my breath."

"You should go. Forget romance. Drink cocktails with tiny umbrellas, eat good food, enjoy the sun and your family. Then start your new life in London a new woman."

"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like good advice."

"Then, TAKE IT!"

Sybil laughed, "All right then!"

**XXX**

After spending a few more hours catching up with Imogen (and learning that Tom was a still a bit of a mess, post-break-up), Sybil finally made it back to Downton Abbey. Carson, the family's butler, greeted her with a smile at the door and reminded her that dinner would be served at 7 p.m.

Sybil made her way up to her room, where her mother had already brought in several boxes for her to pack up and was currently sifting through old mementos from her childhood.

"Do you know that you can take a van to the top of Waimea Canyon and bike all the way back to the beach, without even having to pedal?" Cora asked her daughter, without turning to look at her.

Sybil smiled. "Yes."

"We're doing that on the second day. And on the third—"

"OK, I'll go!"

Cora finally turned back to Sybil, who'd come in and flopped down on her bed. "Good. Now call Anna right now and tell her, so she can make the arrangements."

"I'll call first thing tomorrow."

Cora pursed her lips. "Darling, just call now and get it over with."

Sybil sighed, and without getting up, reached for her mobile in her back pocket and looked up Mary's assistant's number.

**XXX**

"Hello?"

"Hi, Anna, it's Matthew."

"Oh, hi, Matthew," Anna said smiling. "Mary's been in meetings all day. I can knock on her door if you like?"

"That's not necessary. I wanted to talk to you actually. I finally heard back from Tom. He will be coming to Hawaii with us, after all."

"Good! You can't get married without a best man."

Matthew laughed. "That's what I told him. Anyway, he's visiting his family in Dublin at the moment, so he won't be flying in with us, but do add him to our block of rooms."

"OK, that's two late comers in one afternoon."

"Who's the other?" Matthew asked.

"Sybil just called. She's coming as well."

"Brilliant. You're the best!"

Anna laughed. "Thanks."

Just moment after she'd hung up, Mary stepped out of her office. "Tell me again, why did I become a tax lawyer?"

"The glamour," Anna deadpanned.

Mary laughed. "If only."

"An update on Hawaii. Sybil called and said she's coming."

"Finally! Who knew it'd be such hard work convincing a 25-year-old to have some fun."

"Oh, and Tom is coming as well."

Mary stopped short. "Really?"

"Won't be flying with the family, but he'll be there."

Mary's brow furrowed. "Golly, I wasn't expecting that, but I suppose if she wants to give it another try . . ." she said quietly, almost to herself.

"What?" Anna asked.

"Never mind," Mary said. "Just make sure they have a king suite—one with a Jacuzzi. And beach front. They deserve some fun after everything that's happened." She turned to go back into her office.

"You mean you want them to share a room?" Anna asked confused.

"A suite!" Mary said, closing the door behind her.

_Do they even know each other?_ Anna thought.

With a shrug of her shoulders, she picked up the phone again, dialing the travel agent.

"Hello, Patty," she said, when the agent on the other end had picked up. "This is Anna Bates calling for the Crawley family wedding party. I need to add one room to the block—a suite if possible. Beach-front. King-size bed. The guests' names are Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson."


	3. Chapter 3

_I know, I know. It's been eons since I updated. I suck. Sincerest apologies :)_

_I'm taking a short break from my magnum opus (If Things Were Different) to work on my other stories, including this one. I don't plan on this story being super long, so I hope to make lots of progress in the next few weeks and finish it relatively soon._

_Quick note on Edith: she is a lesbian in this story and Gwen is her wife. I don't usually genderswap in fanfic, but this story is at least partly about relationships and how they work and I wanted to include something within the Crawley family dynamic that was fundamentally different from Mary and Matthew's relationship as well as Cora and Robert's. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"How about this one?"

Sybil looked over to Gwen, her longtime friend turned sister-in-law, as the latter held up what could only be labeled as a "bodice-ripper," given the image on the cover of a woman whose dress had been torn in such a way as to reveal her ample cleavage and who was pulling a man toward her by his shirt, which was also in tatters. Sybil could only laugh.

The two were standing in the middle of a busy airport bookstore in Heathrow waiting for their flight to Los Angeles en route to Hawaii. They would be in the air for a total of seventeen hours, and though Sybil had loaded her iPad with e-editions of some of her favorite books, along with some Doctor Who reruns, the battery wasn't likely to last the whole way. It was also something of a habit for her to start a new book at the start of a journey, but today, the pickings were slim.

"No romance novels, please," she said to Gwen.

"This is a good one!" Gwen insisted.

"Read it, have you?"

"Actually, I have. I did a seminar last year on feminism and the romance genre, and this author holds up to scrutiny pretty well."

Sybil crinkled her brow. "So the girl doesn't fall for her rapist in this one?"

"Hardly. In fact, with this writer, the girls are the ones doing the seduction most of the time. There is a greater balance of power between the protagonists and the smut is actually quite well written."

Sybil laughed. "Well-written _smut_? That might be the funniest thing you've ever said."

"As a future doctor of women's studies, I think you should take my word for it," Gwen said, pushing the book into Sybil's hands.

"What have you got there?"

Both girls turned to see Sybil's sister Edith come up the aisle with a box of Swiss chocolates in her hands.

"They didn't have the hazelnut," Edith said to Gwen, "so I got you the dark. Hope that's fine."

"It is, thanks, luv, Gwen said. "We're trying to find something for Syb to read on the plane, but she's _judging _my suggestions."

"I just want something good. This kind of stuff's a bit ridiculous."

Edith rolled her eyes. "This coming from the girl who read Lady Chatterly's Lover five times when she was sixteen."

"That's different! That's literature! Besides, I was sixteen. Nothing that you do at that age should ever be held against you."

Gwen laughed. "Sybil, Lady Chatterly was so racy it was banned in England."

"It was still D. H. Lawrence, who's bound to be better than whoever this is."

Edith took the book from Sybil and read the title aloud, "The Jewel of York."

Gwen took the book from Edith. "She's being difficult on purpose. We're going to buy it for her, and she'll love it, and we're putting ourselves in charge of making sure she doesn't mope the whole time we're on holiday."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I'm right here."

"And while you're here," Edith said, taking Gwen's hand, "we'll be at the register to pay."

Sybil couldn't help but smile as they walked off hand in hand. Sometimes it seemed a bit absurd to Sybil how perfect they were for each other. Whenever Sybil questioned whether love was real, she thought of them, which was rather ironic considering that for some closed-minded people, their relationship wasn't worthy of the supposed ultimate expression of love—marriage. They weren't married in the legal sense, but they were in the only sense that Sybil thought mattered.

Gwen had been Sybil's friend for as long as they both could remember, Gwen's mother having worked as a housekeeper at Downton Abbey from the time they were both in nappies. Sybil had been the first person Gwen confided in about her sexuality when they were still in school. Gwen's parents had been reluctant to embrace their daughter's revelation when she came out to them, so for several years, Sybil and her sisters were the only people Gwen felt truly supported and loved her. When Gwen left for university, her absence made her parents remember how much _they _loved her and they came around.

The time Gwen spent with the Crawley family, seeking refuge from a home in which she didn't always feel welcome, was what made Edith, in turn, realize her own truth. She'd always been awkward and unlucky around boys and attributed it to some fault in herself—particularly when she compared herself with her ever-popular older sister Mary. She was four years older than Sybil and Gwen, but felt a bit in awe of her sister's friend's maturity. Once, driven by curiosity, Edith asked Sybil if she'd ever wondered what it would be like to kiss Gwen.

Sybil had laughed and said, "Not really. Not like _that_. She's the lesbian, not me. Honestly, Edith, what a question."

What a question, indeed. Why had she asked at all? Edith looked inside of herself and found that the reason was simple. _She _wanted to kiss Gwen.

That was the beginning of their beginning.

**XXX**

Chocolates and books bought and paid for. Edith, Gwen and Sybil made it back to the gate where the rest of their family was waiting, and it was only minutes later that it was time to board. The group took up almost the entirety of the first class cabin. Robert and Cora sat on the first row on one side of the aisle, with Edith and Gwen across from them. Behind Robert and Cora, sat Matthew and Mary, and behind them Matthew's mother Isobel and her longtime friend and companion, Richard Clarkson, who also happened to have been the Crawley daughters' pediatrician when they were growing up and the person who inspired Sybil to become a nurse. Of the Crawley party, only Sybil was without a seatmate, sitting behind Edith and Gwen, but she welcomed the extra space and looked forward to lying down across both seats once the plane was in the air.

When the aircraft pulled out of the gate and began to taxi in preparation for takeoff, Mary looked across the aisle to Sybil and raised an eyebrow at her choice of reading material.

"What in heaven's name is _that_?"

Sybil smiled. "It's top of the class romance, according to Gwen."

Mary leaned over the aisle to look at the cover. "The Jewel of York by T.B. Nightingale?"

"I'm sure it's a made up name," Sybil said with a shrug. "The point is escape, darling, not cultural enrichment."

Mary laughed. "By the way, I've been wanting to ring you all week, but with all the craziness of work and the holiday, I hadn't had the chance. How are things?"

"Other than me getting settled into my flat, you haven't missed much."

A confused look came over Mary's face. "I'd say you and Tom getting back together was a big thing to have missed."

"What in the world gave you that idea?"

"Anna said you called and told her you were both coming," Mary replied. "She booked you a suite."

As the plane rose into the air, Sybil felt her stomach sink. Turning with her whole body toward her sister—as much as she could with her seatbelt on—Sybil said with a measure of alarm in her voice, "Mary, I can assure you that Tom and I have not gotten back together. And I most certainly wouldn't say such a thing to Anna. Ask mum! She was there when I called. For the gazillionth time, the relationship is over."

"I'm not making it up! I distinctly remember her saying Sybil is coming and Tom as well. Who else could she have been talking about?!"

Mary felt Matthew shift beside her. She turned her head to look over at him and was disconcerted by the amused look on his face.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

Matthew smiled. "What's my best friend's name?"

"Branson, silly. What are you talking about?"

"His _first _name?"

"T—Tom." _Oh dear. _The truth dawned suddenly and unforgivingly on Mary and she sank back into her seat. "Anna was talking about two different phone calls," she said, burying her face in her hands.

Matthew started to laugh, which confused Sybil all the more.

"What's going on?" Sybil asked.

Mary looked back and forth between her sister and her fiancée. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Nothing that can't be taken care of. Just read your book and let me worry about it, OK?"

Sybil turned so she was facing forward again and tried to fight off the feeling of dread came over her as she looked at her now clearly worried sister.

**XXX**

The moment the plane landed in Los Angeles, Mary turned on her mobile to call the resort to ask for another room. Luckily, a last minute cancellation had created a vacancy, but it would not be available for two nights and it was in a smaller, decidedly less swanky room. Matthew assured Mary that his friend would happily take the smaller room and leave the beachside suite to Sybil. So Mary, as gently and apologetically as she could, broke the news to Sybil that for the first two days in Hawaii, she'd have a roommate.

"Think of it this way," Mary said, "We're going to be spending all our time by the pool drinking cocktails, so who cares where you're sleeping, right?"

Annoyed and upset, Sybil walked off to the loo without answering Mary, feeling everyone's eyes on her as she did so. Walking straight into one of the stalls, she sat down on the toilet. As soon as she did, the selfishness of her reaction hit her like a ton of bricks, and Sybil proceeded to cry for a good five minutes. She wasn't upset about the room or the mix up. Certainly, she wasn't upset at Mary or her family. She was angry at _herself_. Sybil had been, for most of her young life, a carefree and optimistic person who always saw the best in people and made the best of every situation. And yet, here she was, about to go on a beach holiday in one of the most beautiful places in the world with all the people she loved and all she could do was nit pick and be skeptical and sarcastic. When had enjoying herself become such hard work? Mary was getting married and going out of her way to make her miserable baby sister feel comfortable. And Sybil, instead of shrugging a silly misunderstanding off with a laugh as she might have once, walked off in a petulant huff, a privileged poor little rich girl incapable of love and unworthy of it—the kind of person that she used to loath.

And yet that's what she had become.

After calming down, Sybil took a bit of toilet paper to wipe her tears. When she stood and opened the door, she saw Mary outside the stall.

Sybil crumbled again, and this time, Mary caught her and soothed her until all the tears were gone.

"I'm so sorry," Sybil said into her sister's shoulder. "I'm horrible. This is your special time, and I'm making it about me. I don't know why I'm so sullen all the time. I hate this feeling of hating everything. I thought once I'd be rid of him it would go away."

"Darling," Mary said, pulling away so she could look Sybil in the eye. "You were in a relationship for two years. You can't just walk away and expect everything to be perfect and normal right away. You ended it, yes, but that doesn't mean _you_ don't need time to recover as well. I know it was nice for a while, but being with Tom clearly wasn't good for you. You put his feelings ahead of your own and that isn't the way love is supposed to work."

"Isn't it?"

"No. Making someone else happy is nice, but it's only love if doing so makes _you_ happy. You and Tom wanted different things. Primarily, he wanted you, and you let him have what he wanted even though it made you miserable. And instead of letting anyone know, you just swallowed the misery and now it's stuck inside you. You have to let go. Otherwise, there will never be room for someone else in your heart."

"I don't want someone else in my heart."

Mary smiled sadly. "Darling, believing _that _is part of what's keeping the misery in there."

Sybil couldn't help but laugh. "I'm a sad case aren't I. I'm sorry I'm ruining your wedding holiday."

"You're _not_. Now, we're going to board that plane, drink oodles of champagne so we're absolutely pissed when we arrive and then we'll get leid."

"Mary!"

"Not laid, _leid_—you know with the _flowers_!" Mary said with a laugh, pulling her sister out of the loo and back toward the gate. "Though honestly, you could do with the other thing too. Tom's not bad looking and he's single, though he is rather full of himself."

"What Tom?"

"Matthew's best man."

"Mary, I think Mr. Bellasis has ruined me for all men who go by that that name."

"Call him Branson, then. I think you'll like him, actually. He's so left-wing he's practically a socialist, so he's right up your alley."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Can we not with the matchmaking please?"

Mary sighed. "Suit yourself."

**XXX**

When the family finally arrived on Kauai Island, they'd been up for almost 24 straight hours, but it was only 7:30 p.m. local time. Upon checking in, they were informed that Mr. Tom Branson had already arrived and checked in. The family all scattered toward their rooms and agreed to meet the following morning for breakfast. While Matthew took care of his and Mary's luggage, Mary offered to walk Sybil to her room to make a proper introduction to Tom, who still didn't know he'd be sharing a room with anyone.

When they arrived at the suite, Mary knocked on the door several times, but to no avail.

"Maybe he went out," Sybil said. "Let's just go in. I'm knackered."

"All right," Mary said, stepping aside so Sybil could use her keycard to open the door.

The two walked into a large, tastefully decorated open room. There was a small kitchen on the left and a sitting area with a large sofa and two chairs. At the far end, a set of sliding glass doors opened up onto a patio and, beyond that, a path that led down to the beach. They came all the way in, past the doorway on the right that presumably led to the bedroom and bath. They could hear the radio playing inside and the sound of the shower.

"You can go if you'd like," Sybil said. "I can explain what happened."

"Let me wait," Mary said with a smile. "He can be a bit of handful."

"You're making me rather nervous about this whole thing." Sybil stepped toward the open glass doors, which let in a cool evening breeze, Sybil added, "Is it all right with you if I don't go back to England?"

Mary laughed. She was about say something else, when the heard noise coming from the bedroom. "That must be him," Mary said.

Indeed, the door to the bedroom opened as Mary stepped toward it and a stark-naked, freshly showered Tom Branson stepped out.

"JESUS!" He screamed out and immediately ran back into the room. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, MARY! Ain't you heard of knocking."

Maybe it was the delirium of travel and sleep deprivation, but Sybil looked at her red-faced sister and burst out laughing. "A bit more than a handful, I'd say."

"Tom, I'm so, so sorry," Mary, who was still covering her eyes, yelled toward the bedroom.

"So eager to see me, were you?" He said sardonically as he stepped out again, having put on a pair of athletic shorts.

Mary laughed, though clearly still embarrassed at having caught him _in flagrante_. "Yes, though not quite so much of you."

Tom laughed. "I won't tell Matthew." He turned slightly and noticed for the first time that Mary wasn't alone. "Oh . . . hello."

Sybil blinked several times, a bit taken by the blueness of his eyes and the way the skin around them crinkled as he smiled. There was also the broad expanse of his chest, which had a small trail of hair that started at the base of his neck all the way down to his, um, shorts. Feeling a bit at a loss for words, she looked over at Mary.

"This is my youngest sister, Sybil," she said.

Tom stepped forward and offered his had. "Delighted. Tom Branson."

Sybil shook his hand with a bashful smile. "Sorry about barging in."

"Not at all," he said with a wink. "If someone's going to see me as God made me, it might as well be a beautiful woman." Turning to Mary, he added, "_Two _of them. So to what do I owe the visit."

"Actually, Tom, it's not so much a visit," Mary began, "at least, not for Sybil. Um . . . there was a bit of confusion when booking the rooms, and I'm afraid you'll have to share. It's just for two nights. We got another one for Sybil but she can't have it until Sunday."

Tom looked at Sybil again and scratched his head. "Um . . . sure. Plenty of room here."

"Good," Mary said relieved. "We'll have breakfast all together tomorrow at 9 a.m., so if you're both OK, we'll just see you then. It's the main dining area, in the atrium."

Both Tom ad Sybil nodded, so Mary shrugged then turned to go.

"Hey, wait!" Tom called out.

Mary turned. He came up to her by the door and grabbed her in a big bear hug.

"Congratulations," he said pulling away. "It's not just any girl who can marry my best mate."

Mary laughed. "Don't you know that you don't congratulate the girl!"

Tom rolled eyes playfully. "Best wishes, then."

Mary smiled and looking over his shoulder at Sybil, called out, "Good night, darling," before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

Tom turned and said, "Alone at last."

Sybil's brow furrowed skeptically. "Please don't flirt. I'm far too tired."

Tom laughed. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer and lifted it toward Sybil.

She sighed. "Actually, I'd love one."

He grabbed another, opened them both and walked over to Sybil to hand it to her.

She took a long pull. "Golly, that's good."

"Wailua Wheat," Tom said looking at the label. "Picked it up this afternoon on the bellhop's recommendation. It's a bit fruity, but we're in Hawaii, so do as the Romans and all that."

"Are you going to put on a shirt?" Sybil asked.

"Why? We're at the beach, and you already saw the naughty bits," he said winking again.

Sybil brought the bottle up to her lips in an effort to hide her smile. After taking a drink, she looked around the room and said, "I suppose I should unpack."

"There'll be plenty of time for that," Tom said, grabbing her hand and pulling her outside. "Let's go revel in the fact we're in paradise."

"But—"

"But what? You'd rather be inside sorting through your clothes or outside having a beer and looking at the ocean?"

He was teasing her, but looking into his eyes and thinking about her conversation with Mary, hours ago in the LAX loo, the question suddenly seemed much bigger.

_Let go. _

Sybil smiled and kicked off her sandals. "Let's go, then."

They walked to where the water met the shore and let their feet sink into the wet sand.

Realizing that he was still holding her hand, Tom let go. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I have a tendency to invade people's personal space. Bit of a bad habit."

"It's OK," Sybil said, looking out over the water. "Sometimes to get out of your own head someone has to pull you out."


	4. Chapter 4

_Picking up right where we left off. This chapter is basically one long, meandering conversation. _

* * *

Sybil and Tom sat on the sand and drank their beer while silently enjoying the sound of the waves lapping at their feet. There were a handful of people still swimming nearby despite the dimming light of the sun, and the din of the resort's nightly luau could be heard in the distance. In spite of that, though, there was a stillness in the air—peace—that slowly eased the tension that Sybil had been feeling throughout the course of the day and, indeed, for the last several weeks.

After taking her last gulp, Sybil looked at Tom. He'd finished his beer almost a soon as they'd sat down but seemed content to sit, his elbows resting on his knees, and stare out ahead into the water. Sybil was next to him but sitting a few inches back, so she could look at his face without his noticing. She watched him for a moment. There was nothing in his current expression that spoke to the brashness he'd displayed in greeting her and Mary and pulling her out here. He looked, not so much like he was watching the ocean, but more like he was looking for something in it.

"Um," she said quietly to get his attention.

He turned toward her a bit startled. "Oh, hey. Zoned out a bit there. I suppose the jetlag's catching up with me too."

He didn't look particularly tired to Sybil, but she didn't feel she knew him well enough to contradict him or to ask him what was on his mind, so she only smiled.

"Do you want another?" He asked, signaling to her empty bottle.

"No, thanks," she responded. "Actually, I better go inside, or I'm liable to pass out right here."

Tom stood and offered his hand to help her stand. She took it, but he pulled her up with such force that she bumped into his chest. The sand, shifty as it was under his feet, gave way and he fell backwards.

"Sorry," Sybil said trying to hold back her laughter.

Tom laughed and laid back on the sand. "Maybe I'll just sleep here."

"Doesn't look very comfortable," Sybil said.

"I've had worse." He looked up at her with a playful smirk and asked, "Aren't you going to help _me _up?"

Sybil stepped over him and offered her hand, but took it back just as he was about to grab it. "Maybe you should just do it yourself. This has the makings of an endless cycle, and I'm not kidding when I say I might fall asleep where I stand."

Tom laughed and got himself up and shook the sand off his shorts. After he bent over again to grab his empty bottle, the two made their way back through the patio and into their shared suite.

"I think I might have a shower before I go to bed," Sybil said moving toward her suitcase.

"Well, there's one full bathroom there," Tom said, pointing to a door next to the countertop that separated the kitchen from the sitting area. "Just through the bedroom, there's another with a Jacuzzi the size of my first apartment. Heart-shaped, too—the Jacuzzi, that is, not the apartment."

Sybil snickered.

"I'm not kidding about the size. I thought about getting in earlier but I was afraid I might drown."

"This one is fine," Sybil said taking her bag and pulling into the bathroom off the sitting area.

The hot water felt so good, she stayed in longer than she had intended. By the time she'd finished, lotioned herself up, changed into her nightshirt and brushed her teeth, more than a half-hour had gone by. When she stepped out into the sitting area again, she saw that Tom had used that time to move his things out of the bedroom and open and dress the sofa bed, on which he was now sitting, leaning up against the back with his feet stretched out in front of him on top of the covers. He had the TV on, but the volume was barely audible and his attention was on the laptop sitting on his lap.

He'd also dressed for bed. The pants were a blue plaid and the shirt was a short-sleeved, cream colored henley that stretched around his chest and arms in a way that—Sybil was forced to admit to herself—made him actually look better than he had undressed. Not that Sybil had any complaints to file about _that_.

"Oh . . . um, _I_ was going to sleep out here," she said.

"Did you have your heart set on it?" He asked teasingly.

"You just . . . um, you needn't have gone out of your way."

"It's all right," he said with a wave of his hand. "I plan on going for a run in the early morning, so this way I won't wake you up."

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"My stuff's all out here now. It'll be more of a hassle to move it back."

"Fine," Sybil said, pulling her suitcase into the bedroom. She set it on the suitcase stand and then peaked her head out again. "You don't need to be all chivalrous with me, you know. We're only sharing a room."

"Do you always put up a fight when someone does something nice for you?"

"No," Sybil answered defensively.

"OK." He smiled. "Go sleep, then," he said, then turned back to him computer.

Sybil thought of saying something back but held her tongue and continued to watch him for a moment.

"If you really want to, we can share this one," he said, not looking up from his computer. "Plenty of room."

Sybil crossed her arms and leaned on the door jamb. "If I were a man, we would have flipped a coin or something. That's all I'm saying."

"Your gender has nothing to do with the fact I'll be up at 7 a.m.," he said, looking back up to her, "but if you want to be insulted by my paying you a courtesy, then I'll have to be insulted by the assumption that I am not as nice to men as I am to women."

Sybil narrowed her eyes at him, and he looked back at his computer smiling.

"I didn't say that," she said finally, "but if I catch you pushing in my chair for me at breakfast tomorrow, I'll be expecting you to do the same for Matthew."

"I always do," he deadpanned. "We put the romance in bromance, him and me. I open all his doors as well."

Sybil laughed. "I suppose I walked into that one. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Ten minutes later, Tom hadn't moved from his spot when Sybil came back into the room and without a word, sat cross-legged next to him on the sofa bed and opened her book on her lap.

"How are you still awake? I think it's something like eight or nine in the morning in London," Tom said, watching her with a curious smile. "Didn't you say outside you were about pass out?"

Sybil laid back against the pillows with a sigh and stretched her legs out. "It seems my body clock has stopped working altogether. I think I am past the point of sleep. Outside, I could barely keep my eyes open as I said, but as soon as I let my head on the pillow I was wide-awake."

"I think you just missed me."

Sybil looked at Tom from the side of her eyes and smirked. Still leaning back, she picked up her book again and opened it. Unconscious of what she was doing she slid her feet up, bending her knees in the process, which caused her nightshirt to slide down to her upper-thighs. Realizing what she'd done, she straightened her legs again and pulled her night shirt back down to mid-thigh. If she could have looked in Tom's mind just then, she'd have known that it didn't really make much of a difference.

In an effort not to seem as if he was ogling her, he stared determinedly at his screen and cleared his throat. "I _have _been told that I have magnetic personality," he said.

"I'm sure you have." Sybil bit her lip and looked up at him. "How are _you_ not feeling the jetlag?"

"I flew from Dublin to New York and spent a few days with a friend there. Then flew to LA, spent a night there and got here this morning. So I didn't do the trip all in one go."

"Are you from Dublin originally?"

"Born in Galway, grew up in Dublin. I've lived in England for more than ten years now, though, if you count university."

"Matthew mentioned you were at Cambridge together."

Tom nodded. "You? I assume you grew up in Yorkshire like Mary."

"Yeah. I did nursing school in Manchester and came back to live in York the last two years, but I moved down to London a few weeks ago."

"Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?"

He turned his head toward her and did a double take upon seeing her book, which she'd laid down on her lap. His expression turned from one of surprise into a delighted grin.

"What?" She asked picking it up and hugging it to herself. "Can't a girl enjoy a little romance every once in a while?"

"Certainly, I just didn't have you pegged as the romance novel type."

"You've guessed that from knowing me less than two hours?"

"You were very specific in warning me against acting in a chivalrous manner. Those books don't exactly carry Gloria Steinem's seal of approval."

"What do you know of feminism?"

"I consider myself a feminist." He was still smiling, but Sybil could sense a measure of sincerity in his tone. Still, she couldn't help but express at least a small measure of skepticism.

"I have no doubt you consider yourself a devoted friend to all women, but that's not the same thing as wanting equal rights."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't take me very seriously, do you? You haven't known me that long either."

"Maybe it's because I've seen you naked."

Tom laughed. "You could even things out in that regard."

"Are you trying to seduce me? Because you're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of my knickers."

"It saddens me that you think this is the behavior of someone trying to seduce you. I'm afraid it doesn't speak well for the men in your past."

"Are you so confident that you think if you _were_ trying to seduce me, I'd be naked by now?"

Tom leaned down slightly and whispered. "You seem to keep wondering whether or not I am trying to seduce you. What I'm saying is, if I were, you would _know_ without having to ask."

Tom straightened back up and went back to his computer. Sybil, meanwhile, shifted on the mattress and hoped against hope that the blush on her cheeks didn't look as obvious as it felt.

Several minutes passed and Tom looked over at her again. "So . . . do you like it?"

"What?"

He pointed to the book.

Sybil shrugged. "It's not bad actually. It's about these two childhood sweethearts on a farm in Ireland in the 1890s. The guy asks the girl to marry him when he's twenty and she's eighteen, but she's ambitious and says no and goes to England where she marries this old, wealthy banker for his money. When he leaves his country house and estate, and all these men come after her for her inherited fortune, but she seduces them all until they fall in love with her, at which point she breaks each of their hearts. Meanwhile, ten years later, her old sweetheart has lost everything and gets into a scrape and kills a British officer in self-defense. He has to flee so he assumes a new identity and decides to go find her after all this time. He arrives at her estate and has taken a job there thinking that she doesn't know she's hired him, but she does know. That's where I am."

"That's quite a bit of plot for that kind of book."

"It's a page-turner, no doubt. I rather like that, though. It's a bit like Tom Hardy, except not as depressing since the woman has lots of good sex."

"So it's historically accurate, then," he said cheekily.

Sybil smirked. "I don't think shagging in any era compares to how good this woman has it."

Before Sybil could react, Tom grabbed the book out of her hands.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, sitting up and reaching over him.

Using his left hand to hold her off, Tom opened the book with his right and began to read aloud.

_He was harder than he could have imagined, and she had yet to touch herself. His thoughts were jolted as she closed her eyes and moaned. She began to push the fabric of her neckline down until one of her round, full breasts was free to be devoured first by his eyes, then his mouth._

"That doesn't sound like any Hardy that I read," Tom said laughing. "Maybe if it had, I'd done better in school."

Tom having stopped holding her off, Sybil was finally able to reach across him and take the book back.

"It's just fantasy. Men aren't usually willing to give a women this much pleasure. That's the reason women write these books."

"How do you know T.B. Nightingale is a woman?"

"No man who understands foreplay or oral sex like it's written here."

"If you say so, but maybe you just haven't met the right one yet."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "No doubt, you consider yourself an expert."

"Wouldn't you like to find out," he said with a smirk.

He was, of course, teasing her. Sybil could see that easily. But for a moment, as he focused again on his computer, she contemplated the possibility. Sybil had not had what she would consider an adventurous sex life. Between her and Tom Bellasis, things had been good and fun at first, but novelty soon became routine, and the last few months, she'd started putting such little effort into faking her orgasms, she wondered if he might catch on. Subconsciously, of course, it had been a kind of test, and he had failed it.

Watching Tom _Branson_, she thought about how different it would be to be with someone she'd only just met—not something she'd ever done.

_Was that what brought me out here in the first place?_

Trying to get the thought out of her head, she shifted to her side. He looked over at her and seemed surprised to find her still looking at him. A small smiled formed on his face that was, to Sybil's surprise, devoid of the cockiness that seeped through his every other word. Feeling now somewhat exposed, Sybil sought to deflect his attention by acting as if she'd been looking for the television remote.

"Do you mind if I change the channel?" she asked.

Tom reached over to the table on his side of the sofa, but instead of giving her the remote, he twirled it around in his hand. "Shall we flip for it?"

Rolling her eyes, Sybil grabbed it out of his hand. "You're obviously not watching."

After settling back into her spot against the pillows, she began to mindlessly flip through the stations. "What are you doing anyway?" she asked.

"Just writing some work emails."

"What do you do?"

"I write romance novels."

Without looking away from the television, Sybil lifted her right leg and kicked him. "Seriously," she said.

"I'm a writer."

"What do you write?"

"Romance novels."

"Fine, don't tell me."

Tom kept his eyes on her as he laughed. "I'm a freelance journalist."

"Where should I look for your byline?"

"The Guardian, when they're feeling generous, which is not often. I've written for a few news magazines here and there. I'm afraid it's feast or famine in my field."

"And what do you usually like to cover?"

"I'll cover anything for a paycheck, but I specialize in politics and economic policy, mostly."

Sybil laughed. "Mary called you a socialist."

Tom laughed too. "Doesn't surprise. We've had some amusing conversations on the topic of politics, so I know that's a dirty word coming from her."

"Then, you'll be amused to know that she said it in an effort to convince me I'd like you."

Tom arched his eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"I'm the lone Labour voter in the Crawley clan."

"That must be quite a laugh."

"Not really. Mama has a strict rule regarding what dad and I may talk about at the dinner table. I may or may not have broken a 'priceless' vase in the heat of an argument."

Tom laughed. "Then you'd be at home in the Branson family."

"As to politics or dish-breaking?"

Tom smiled. "Both."

Sybil smiled back. She handed him the remote and turned on her side again, hugging her pillow. "Tell me about your next article."

"It'll put you to sleep."

"That's the plan," she said closing her eyes.

"Do you find me very boring?"

"Boring is underrated," she said, eyes still closed, almost in a whisper. "Boring is sexy."

Tom closed up his laptop and set it on the table beside the sofa, along with the remote. He reached up to the lamp and turned it off, so the only light coming into the room was from the patio light just outside the glass door. It gave her skin a golden glow, making it look even more enticing. He laid down on his side facing her and looked her face over. Her breathing had evened out and her mouth had opened ever so slightly.

"Sybil," he whispered.

He listened for a few minutes as her breaths got deeper.

"Sybil," he said, a bit more loudly this time. He shook her shoulder gently, but it was no use. She was finally deep asleep.

He reached down to the comforter at the foot of the sofa bed and pulled it over them both. Then he settled on his back to stare at the ceiling.

The romance novels were a bit a lark, but they paid the bills and allowed him to live rather comfortably. The truth was he was a bit embarrassed about the whole thing and didn't like telling people about them. "T.B. Nightingale" was a name only he, his agent and his sister Moira, who had coined it for him, recognized as his. He knew they sold well, but he'd never actually met anyone who had read one until tonight.

Hearing her talk about the one that had always been his favorite, Tom couldn't help but feel a little bit proud.

* * *

_The "excerpt" from "The Jewel of York" is a slightly edited excerpt from Master of the House, Mistress of the Manner by Yankee Countess._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much, everyone, for all the kind reviews as well as the follows and favorites. I hope you continue to enjoy this story._

_Picking up again the morning after. A short interlude before we get to pre-wedding family shennanigans._

* * *

Sybil had always enjoyed sharing a bed with someone, even before doing so carried any sort of romantic notions. As a small child of four, she would sneak into her eight-year-old sister Edith's room in the middle of the night and cuddle up to her back. Edith, sensing Sybil's presence and wanting a bit of space would shuffle over a bit, but Sybil, even without waking up, would manage to find her again. Edith would move over again, and again, Sybil would follow. This would continue until Edith was on the very edge of her own queen size bed and was forced to get out and hop back in on Sybil's other side. Then, Sybil would find her, cuddle her and the dance would begin all over again. It led to lost sleep for Edith, but she didn't mind because Edith liked the feeling of being needed.

(Sybil had done it to Mary too, but after the first few nights of it, Mary was wise enough to lock her door.)

With Tom Bellasis, spooning was the one form of physical contact they both loved equally, so naturally it was the first thing to begin to break down the more apparent it became to Sybil that things had to end. Still, it was the only part of being in a relationship that she missed after it was all over.

So it should have been no surprise to Sybil, upon waking early on her first morning in Hawaii, that she was snuggled up to Tom Branson, who'd had the sense to fall asleep facing away from her (if not the sense to take the king size bed in the other room after she'd fallen asleep in his). He was warm and soft, and when Sybil moved her cheek away she immediately missed the contact. She remained close to him for a moment, and taking a deep breath, she recognized the smell of the same lavender scented fabric softener that she used. She smiled as she wondered whether a mother or sister bought it for him, or if he bought it thinking of one of them. Sybil was embarrassed, of course, at having woken up like this and moved over slightly so she could sit up. She was still groggy from the jetlag, so doing so actually made her a bit dizzy and she laid down and closed her eyes again.

"Top o' the mornin'!"

She opened her eyes again and turned to see that Tom had turned on his pillow and was facing her, bright-eyed and grinning.

"Oh, god, you're a morning person," she said, rubbing her eyes, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

"I guess you'll not be coming for a run with me, then?"

"Not unless you plan to pull me on a rickshaw."

Tom laughed as he sat up and shifted away from her, bringing his feet over to the side of the bed to sit up. "You're still half-asleep but sense of humor still works. You're my kind of girl, Sybil Crawley."

Sybil was grateful he wasn't looking at her as she felt herself blush at his words and couldn't help but feel a tiny bit flattered. Instead of responding with a quick quip, she said quietly, "Sorry about invading last night. I think I was a bit delirious with sleep deprivation."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "It's all right. Though if you want to share a bed again tonight I say we go for the king in there," he said nodding his head toward the door that led to the bedroom. "It'll give us a more room to spread out."

"I guess I should apologize for that, too," she said, sitting up herself. ""I've always been a snuggler."

Tom stood and turned toward her. With a smile he said, "That wasn't a complaint, just an observation."

He scratched his head and turned to look out the window toward the patio and the beach beyond. "I honestly can't remember the last time I slept in the same bed with a girl without having a shag first."

Sybil dragged her legs over to the side of the bed with a sigh. "You obviously haven't been in a dead-end relationship. At the end all you ever do is pretend you're too tired to do it or already asleep until you actually fall asleep on your own corner of the bed, telling yourself that there's comfort in simply sharing a bed with someone."

"You don't think there's comfort in it?" He asked.

Sybil looked up to see that he'd come around to the middle of the room and was looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite place. "I do, just not when you'd rather be somewhere else."

She looked down again feeling embarrassed. "Sorry for the oversharing. I haven't had my coffee yet so my defenses are down."

"Well, I don't think there's any such thing as over sharing," he said with that same enigmatic expression, then bent down to open his suitcase.

Sybil watched him as pulled out running clothes. He was in good shape—she'd seen as much as one needed to see to be sure of that the night before—but he wasn't overly muscular, which she liked. The pajama pants certainly did his bum justice. He stood, not having noticed her checking him out, and with another smile in her direction stepped into the bathroom to change.

Sybil shook her head trying to push off the thoughts creeping around her brain since their conversation last night. In the LAX loo, she'd dismissed Mary's suggestion that she needed a shag, but now that a candidate had presented himself, her subconscious apparently wasn't entirely against the idea, having compelled her to seek him out. She rubbed her face with her hands again to keep from laughing at herself and stood up to go to the bedroom. As she did so, her book fell onto the floor from where it had been tangled in the comforter.

Sybil bent down to pick it up and flipped through the pages with a sigh. _Oh, Meara, why can't I have your powers of seduction._

"So when was your breakup?"

Sybil looked up to see Tom wearing the same athletic shorts he'd been wearing last night, trainers and a faded Arsenal T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places.

_Have plain shirts ever looked this good on another human? _"Um, what?"

"You mentioned a dead-end relationship in a tone that suggested it ended fairly recently," he said. He shrugged, then added, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I guess I was just curious."

"Oh, um . . . yeah. It was a couple of months ago. I'd had one foot out the door for some time before that, but officially . . . two months."

"And how long were you together?"

"Two years," Sybil said sitting back down on the sofa bed, one leg tucked under her.

"So you've made it through the worst, then," Tom said walking over and sitting next to her, but still keeping a respectable distance.

"How do you know that?"

"According to my sister, the mourning period for every relationship can be calculated by adding one month for every year the relationship lasted, so . . . two years, two months. You're in the clear."

Sybil laughed. "And where did she garner such wisdom?"

"Probably Cosmo or some such magazine—you know, the type with articles on how to give better blow jobs and all that. She loves them. She's not an overly girly girl, or anything. She says she only reads them as sociological exercise."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have a problem with articles about tips on oral sex if men's magazines paid _us _the same courtesy."

Tom grinned. "Maybe you should just ask your next boyfriend to read The Jewel of York."

Sybil immediately grabbed the book and started smacking him with it, as he laughed and moved away. "Don't you have exercising to do?" She said pointedly. "It's already 7:30!"

Still smiling at her, Tom walked over to the glass door and asked, "You sure you don't want to come?"

Sybil flopped back on the sofa bed. "Walking the length of the Los Angeles airport yesterday to make our transfer was enough exercise to last me the rest of the week."

"Do you want to walk over to the continental breakfast for a coffee?"

Sybil sat up again and looked at Tom, who was half in, half out of the room, leaning against the open glass door. "I think I'm going to order room service, actually."

"Remember we have that breakfast with your family at 9."

"Ugh, bloody hell," Sybil said burying her face in her hands. "Sod it, I'll eat twice. I'm on holiday."

"You are nothing like your sister."

Sybil narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

"Just what I said," Tom said looking down. After a moment, he looked up again. "All right, I'm going. Shall I leave this open?"

Sybil nodded. "I like hearing the ocean."

They looked at one another for a long moment, until he looked away again, clearing his throat. "I'm off, then."

"Wait—do you want anything for when you get back?"

"Just order two of whatever you're having," he answered with a smile.

Sybil stood up and walked over to the patio, watching him go.

It was true. She was totally unlike Mary. And he was totally unlike anyone she'd met.

**XXX**

Once he'd made it to the firmer sand near the water, Tom got into a steady jog, his eyes steady over the ocean to his left. A bit of a cold shower was in order, but this water was likely not cold enough, not after barely sleeping for the feel of her next to him half the night. He thought back to a night a few years back when Matthew, jokingly, but not so, suggested setting him up with Mary's youngest sister.

_"Matthew, your girl is lovely, but you're you and I'm me. Do you not realize what a mess it would be for me and someone who was just like Mary?"_


	6. Chapter 6

_This chapter is dedicated to the lovely and talented foojules (go read A Real Education—you will not regret it!) who celebrated a birthday this week. _

_Once again, picking up where we left off. Hope you enjoy! _

* * *

Tom was gone about 45 minutes. After his run, he'd taken a dip in the ocean, so as he approached the patio, where Sybil was eating her breakfast, he was dripping wet and carrying his sweaty shirt and shoes in his hand. In his absence, Sybil had showered and changed into light blue linen shorts, a flowery cotton tank top and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Tom grinned as he saw her leaning back in her chair, with feet up on the patio table and her bowl of food on her lap.

"This is the greatest thing I have ever eaten," she said without preamble once he was within earshot. "It's a good thing you're back because I was just about to dig into yours."

Tom dropped his shirt and shoes on the edge of the patio, shook the excess water off his hair and sat down in the chair across from Sybil, lifting the cover off of his plate.

"What is it?" he asked, taking a piece of pineapple into his mouth.

"It's the Poipu breakfast special," Sybil said, enunciating the Hawaiian word. She lifted the card on the breakfast tray on the table and read from it aloud, "Andouille sausages cooked with fresh Hawaiian pineapple and served over a bed of scrambled eggs and white rice."

Tom stuck a fork into his bowl, taking a little bit of everything and took a bite. "Hmmm. What do you know, that _is _quite good."

Sybil smirked. "Did you not believe me?"

Tom smiled at her and continued eating.

"You better hurry," she said, "breakfast with the Crawley clan in 45 minutes. I hope you know what you're in for."

Tom swallowed another bite. "I think you're just trying to get me to go inside so you can finish my breakfast for me."

Sybil laughed. "You have figured me out, Tom Branson. I sometimes wish I could be more mysterious, but alas. File it away for future reference—the way to win me over is not walk around half naked as you seem to like to do, but to bring me delicious food."

"What makes you think I'm doing this for your benefit?" He asked gesturing with his fork toward his bare torso. "It is quite hot or haven't you been able to tell?"

Sybil smiled and without saying anything else turned to look out to the ocean. Tom watched her as she took a deep breath and sat contentedly.

"So how was your run?"

Having lost himself a bit and looking at her, the question took Tom by surprise. "What?"

Sybil turned her eyes back toward him. "Your run? Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh . . . yeah. It's been a while since I've run on sand, so my calves will be paying for it tomorrow."

"Sometimes I wish I had the discipline for exercise," Sybil said looking back out to the water. "Then I remember how uncoordinated I am, and I figure it's just as well."

Tom smiled as he took his last bite, then stood up and picked up his dirty shoes and shirt. "I'm going to go clean up."

As he walked toward the glass door, Sybil put her now empty breakfast bowl on the table. As she did so, Tom noticed that sitting underneath the bowl in her lap had been her book.

He smiled. "You really can't put that book down, can you?"

"You have a family breakfast to get your ready for," she chided him playfully.

"Maybe you should write a letter to this Nightingale person. Tell him that his book changed your life."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "If I do write to _her_. I will tell her that she could to with a better _nom de plume_."

Tom laughed all the way to the bathroom.

**XXX**

Once Tom was ready, he and Sybil headed out. They left through the patio to the path that connected all of the resort's buildings on the beach-side. The path led back up to the atrium and lobby through a large pool and recreational area. Once they found the restaurant, which was adjacent to the pool area, which was, in turn, visible through large open windows, Tom and Sybil found the family's table already prepared for breakfast, but with no one yet there.

Sybil looked at her mobile to see the time. "Oh, I guess we're ten minutes early."

"Shall we sit?"

Sybil shrugged and pulled out a chair in front of one of the three pitchers of juice that had already been served.

Tom leaned over the chair next to Sybil. "May I? Or do you need some space?"

Sybil laughed. "You won't have noticed since you didn't travel with the family, but you and I are the only two single people in the wedding party. I'm afraid for all pre-planned activities, it's going to be you and me. Might as well embrace it."

"And what makes you think I'm single?" Tom asked, as Sybil poured herself some juice.

"Oh," she stopped short, setting the juice pitcher down again. "I guess I just thought—wait, you've been flirting with me since we met!"

Tom laughed. "I _am _single. I was just—"

"Just what? Testing me?!"

Tom leaned into her shoulder and rested his forehead against it. "_Messing _with you."

Sybil pushed him off, but she couldn't help but laugh. "You do have personal space issues."

Tom took the pitcher from Sybil and poured himself a glass. "Are you in a position to judge considering you came into my bed last night?"

"I didn't _come _into your bed!"

Tom raised his eyebrows at her.

"OK, maybe I did. I told you I was delirious and sleep-deprived."

He raised his juice glass in her direction and smiled a smile that left Sybil feeling a little bit lightheaded. "If it's going to be you and me, might as well embrace it," he said.

Sybil lost herself in the pools of his eyes for a moment, but then collected herself and clinked her glass with his. "Might as well embrace it," she repeated.

She took a drink first and almost spit it out upon tasting not just pineapple juice, but also champagne.

"Wait!" She said holding his glass to keep him from drinking it. "It's actually not juice. It's a mimosa."

Tom looked at the "juice" then at his place setting, and indeed, there was the champagne glass, plain as day. He looked back at Sybil and shrugged. "Sod it. We're on holiday."

Sybil laughed, and they clinked glasses again and drank.

They had almost emptied the pitcher by the time the rest of the family started trickling in. Tom only knew Mary and Matthew, who were the last to arrive, so Sybil was the one who made the introductions. That, combined with how tipsy they were already starting to feel from their breakfast cocktail and the obvious chemistry that had developed between them in the hours they had known each other could have fooled a stranger into thinking that they were a couple. As the group chatted over drinks and, eventually, food, Gwen kept jabbing Edith to point out how bright-eyed and smiley Sybil was.

"She's drunk," Edith whispered, after the fifth or sixth elbow to the ribs.

Gwen shook her head. "This is not drunk. This is smitten."

Edith looked at Gwen from the side of her eyes.

"OK, smitten and tipsy, but the point here is she fancies him."

Edith sighed and looked across the length of the table at her youngest sister, and indeed Sybil seemed to be much more animated and happy than she had been when they were traveling yesterday—or indeed had been for several weeks. And she seemed to be giving Tom most of her attention.

"Maybe it's being on the islands," Edith said. "I'm in a good mood too, but you don't seem too concerned with that."

Gwen leaned over and pecked Edith on the lips. "I'm always concerned with you, luv. But honestly, I'm going to bet they end up shagging."

Edith burst out laughing in such a way that got the attention of everyone at the table. "Uh, sorry."

Red faced, she turned back to her wife with her eyes wide.

Gwen couldn't help but laugh. "So what about it? Loser does the laundry for a month." She asked quietly.

"You're on—but you're _not _allowed to interfere."

"E, we're in Hawaii, at a wedding, they're both single and sharing a honeymoon suite. _I _don't need to interfere. God is."

**XXX**

It was almost eleven when, everyone having finished eating, Matthew stood up at the end of the table and tapped his glass with his fork. Once he had everyone's attention, he took Mary's hand, who was seated next to him, cleared his throat and spoke up, "First of all, thank you from the bottom of our hearts for so generously clearing your schedules on such short notice to be here for Mary and me. I know this seems a bit unorthodox, but we simply couldn't think of a better way to start our life together than by bringing everyone we love together to this beautiful place, and doing so as soon as possible.

Everyone clapped as Mary sat beaming looking at Matthew.

"Anyway," he continued, "we do still plan to do the downhill bike tour of the canyon today for those who are interested. The touring company will be picking us up in a half an hour, and we should be back by five. We've also reserved a spot for everyone at the resort's nightly luau tonight. Tomorrow, we'll gather on the gazebo on the north end of the resort overlooking the beach for the ceremony, which shall start at 11:30 a.m. sharp."

"Sounds wonderful," Cora said, lifting her glass. "To the bride and groom."

Everyone else followed suit and said, "Hear! Hear!"

After Matthew's announcement, the party began to disperse to their various rooms to get ready for the bicycle tour. Everyone would be going except Richard, who had a bad knee, and Isobel, who didn't want to leave him behind alone.

After Tom and Sybil made it back to their room, Tom plopped down on the sofa. "I'm wondering whether I should go, that champagne made me a bit loopy."

Sybil laughed as she dropped some sunscreen into a small rucksack. "Have some coffee, then."

"You can go without me, you know," he said.

"What happened to 'embracing the you and me'?"

"Pineapple and champagne happened."

Sybil walked over to where he was sitting on the couch and stood in front of him arms akimbo. "Get up off this sofa now and come along or I'll be forced to lift you up and carry you myself."

Tom grinned up at her. "I'd like to see you try, actually."

"I'm sure you would," she said, rolling her eyes. She looked at him for a long moment, then went for a different tactic, and started bouncing on her feet like an impatient child. "Come on, don't leave me alone with all the happy couples."

He laughed and lifted his hand for her to help him up. When she did, he was wobbly on his feet and instinctively grabbed her for balance. They ended up nose to nose and neither moved for several seconds. Sybil felt her cheeks burn and, feeling embarrassed at how close he was, stepped away first.

"Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said quietly, rubbing his hands up and down his sides as if trying to get the feeling of her skin off his hands.

Sybil cleared her throat. "So, um, are you coming?"

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "Riding a bicycle down a steep canyon while drunk with you? Wouldn't miss it."

**XXX**

Mary, Matthew, Edith, Gwen, Robert, Cora, Sybil and Tom all met in the lobby and the designated time, piled into the tour company's van and headed up Waimea Canyon. The driver talked Mary, Matthew, Robert and Cora's ears off on the way up about the history and geology of Kauai Island, while the rest, who were sitting in the very back of the van plotted a joint hen and stag night for Mary and Matthew after the luau dinner.

"I still say we go find a pub in Lihue," Edith said.

"Luv, do you really want to get pissed off site then have to find our way back?"

"The poolside bar is open late," Sybil said. "If the whole point is to get them good and drunk, I'm with Gwen. I say we stay close to home."

"What do you think, Tom?" Edith asked.

Tom scratched his head. "Well, I wouldn't mind mingling with the locals—"

"Thank you!" Edith exclaimed, feeling validated.

"But?" Sybil prodded.

Tom looked back and forth between the sisters, not really eager to get in the middle. "But I also see the point of just kicking back at the hotel."

"So you've chosen to be Switzerland," Gwen said rolling her eyes.

"I've chosen to stay out of any family squabbles," Tom said, "or haven't you noticed I'm a bit out numbered here."

"Why?" Gwen asked, with a teasing smile. "Because we're all girls here?"

"No," Tom replied. "I'm perfectly comfortable in the company of women. I just happen to be the only person not related to anyone by blood or marriage."

"Well, technically, Dr. Clarkson and Isobel aren't married," Edith put in. "But I see your point."

"Why don't we just wait until tonight and see what they want to do?" Sybil said nodding toward the front of the van and Mary and Matthew.

Gwen laughed. "It's their hen and stag night. I think we can all agree they get _no _say in what happens."

Tom laughed. "Why don't we just hang out in our suite—we could hire his and hers strippers."

That earned a laughed from Edith and Gwen and a punch in the shoulder from Sybil.

"Ow!" He said rubbing the spot. "I was obviously joking."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Nothing you do is obvious."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Gwen said, earning her own punch in the shoulder from Edith.

Sybil looked back and forth between the two of them. "What?"

"Nothing!" Edith said smiling.

"Look, I was joking about the stripper, but not about the suite. There's a pit outside if we want to build a fire. I'm sure there's somewhere we can buy loads of alcohol. We can play drinking games or go for a late night swim."

"That actually sounds quite nice," Sybil said, smiling at Tom.

"I agree," Gwen said, turning toward Edith expectantly.

"Oh, fine," she said, finally relenting.

**XXX**

When the van finally reached the top of the canyon, the whole group stumbled out of the van and their tour guide climbed up to the top to unload the cruisers. Once the bikes were down and all the seats had been adjusted for the individual riders, he checked the air on all the tires and outfitted everyone with helmets.

"All right, lords and ladies, enjoy the ride!" He said bowing with a flourish.

The group pushed off and started on their downhill journey. The views were gorgeous, but Tom wasn't paying too much attention. He was still feeling the effects of the alcohol he'd had with breakfast, but the real reason he had been a bit skittish about the whole excursion was that he wasn't a big fan of heights. The mixture of the two, now that he was in motion, was giving him a bit of vertigo, which only ten minutes into the ride caused him to wipe out against a tree and skin his left knee and elbow.

As soon as he did, everyone stopped to make sure he was OK, which of course only worsened his feeling of embarrassment. Sybil was the first off her bike and immediately jumped into nurse mode, going through a litany of questions to make sure he hadn't suffered a concussion.

"Sybil, I'm fine," he insisted, sitting up. "I didn't hit my head or break anything." He looked as the rest of the group was waiting a few feet away and added more quietly, "Though I'll admit my ego's taking a bit of a bruising."

Sybil chuckled. "Please. Given its size, I doubt this even made a dent."

"I think I'm just going to flag the van down when it comes by and ask for a ride back," he said moving to stand up.

Sybil put his arm on her shoulder and helped him up. "I'll come with you."

"Don't be silly."

"It's sort of my fault this happened," she said with a shrug. "I'm the one who got you to come, anyway."

He laughed. "I suppose that's true, but honestly, you don't have to."

"No, I insist. We saw the view on the drive up, so I won't be missing anything. I'd rather got sit on our patio anyway. Plus, I ca read, and you know how I feel about my book."

Tom dropped his chin into his chest and laughed. "Well, I guess there's no talking you out of that."

Sybil smiled, and as Tom went over to pick up his bike, she walked over to her parents, her sisters and their respective partners to let them know.

"But why do you need to go with him?" Edith asked. "It's only a scratch."

"Now, Edith," Gwen said, "Sybil's just being nice, isn't she?"

Sybil gave Gwen a funny look. "I just feel bad, since he hadn't wanted to come and I insisted. Anyway, we'll get the suite ready for tonight."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Gwen said, smiling as Edith rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure, darling?" Cora asked.

"Yes, now get going and don't worry about us, really," Sybil said, already turning back toward where Tom had sat down on the side of the road and waved when they all turned to look at him.

As they mounted their bikes again, Edith said to Gwen. "I said no interfering!"

"I'm not the one who knocked him off the bike. I told you already. It's divine intervention."

A few feet ahead of them, Matthew looked over to Mary next to them. "Do you think something might . . ."

"Might what?" Mary asked.

"Might happen between Tom and Sybil?"

Mary laughed. "I don't know. But they are only roommates for one more night."


End file.
